The Mack Daddy of the Aids Infested Slum of NiggaPone Village
by CarrotTop of Derpibooru
Summary: In order to incite tolerance into our predigous society, I have created this fic to open your eyes to the world of love that we must struggle towards.


The Mack Daddy of the Aids Infested Slum of NiggaPone Village

By Carrot Top of Derpibooru

Author's note: Copy and paste this link into the URl bar after inserting Youtube's homepage url while reading, for atmosphere: /watch?v=tkajXeVLpk4&bpctr=1357774816

Twas another hideously fabulous day within the aids saturated, feces riddled slum that was provided the appropriate entitlement of 'NiggaPone Village'. The entirety of the population was coloured a disgustingly dim shade of black. The atmosphere of the area was tainted by the sharp scent of drying feces and dying sperm. The only commodity this poor ghetto produced was small watermelons which stunk and rotted in the sunlight. With the distance a horn was blown and a smack was produced; the yearly mating ritual had begun.

Chief Jewish Penny Snatching Backstabber had begun rhythmically striking the bare flank of his wife in preparation for the night of moist sexing that neared their tribe. The authoritarian colt donned his swastika adorned chastity belt, symbolic of his ability to restrain himself for extended time (An ability that did not exist; he would rape every single member of his tribe within the morning). After preparing his own person he trotted towards his wife's sex and branded his initials on her sphincter as he did so every year. Her pitiful shrieks of lustful joy pleased her master greatly. He continued to scar his lover until a ceremonial horn was blown.

The niggas circled the small filly bound to the pole and dressed in feral socks. Their pony penises petruded prominently from their sheaths. They spat upon the helpless victim of the evening as she whimpered behind her chicken bone gag. They ignored her pitiful screams while precum emerged from their members collectively. Another can of grape soda was poured on the dumpster where they laid their ancestors to rest. The gang was slowly approaching the whining damsel when a loud electronic beep was heard from the distance.

Dust combined with the stench of rotting severed penises that the tribe used to anally pleasure themselves as a large red truck sped towards the chief's hut (which was completely fabricated from dried blocks of semen). The large automotive mass crashed into the side of the hut, releasing a cloud of powdered semen into the chief's sex dungeon located in his basement. Emerging from the chamber while wearing a thick latex gimp suit was the chief's wife. "NIGGA, WHAT U BE DUIN ROUND THESE HERE PARTS?" she inquired viscously. The pale white unicorns merely forced a golden carrot into her anus while masturbating onto her husband's tan skin. They raised their hooves straight to salute a poster pasted to a small lynching tree of their glorious messiah: Adolf Hoofler.

The horde of Unicorn Supremacists soon dominated the formerly Mud Pony controlled area. Posters of Hoofler were posted in the workplaces and huts of their new slaves, continuously bombarding the dirty pack of niggas with their master's glorious image. Throughout the torturously warm days the savages toiled away in the semen extraction farming units. These metallic shelters housed many instruments of sexual intent; one room sported a dentist's chair fitted with restraints that allowed for easy examination of the mud dwellers. The various sex toys lined on the shelves rendered this room the most feared of them by the slaves. A unicorn could force a slave to ravish his own cousin by the mere mention of that room. The adjacent room contained an artificial vagina designed for male horse semen collection. This room commonly was reserved as a reward for slaves that sacrificed a plump watermelon to their masters as a sign of respect by the end of the workday. No slave would dare refuse to toss a melon into their master's holy furnace fueled by dead rabbit fetuses; the only other method to please themselves without breaking their chastity belts was to message their prostates with broken glass bottles. The master race of unicorns finally gained their proper authority over their inferior brethren.

Days arrived and dissipated into night as the months after the unicorn revolution transpired were assimilated into history. Many technological advances occurred; an improved stallion milking machine was fabricated to allow for the continuous automatic milking of a slave. A subject could be restrained to the device for up to 5 hours until the consequences of food deprivation sent the victim into a rage. Stallion seed gradually evolved into the main commodity that the village produced. For the measly price of 1 bit a colt could dowse his bedroom in slave semen. The unicorns eventually hanged the former Chief from a stripper pole surrounded by female slaves cad in latex. His cries of pain and ecstasy were recorded and sold on the _black_ market. This event truly unnerved the slaves; every night they would offer their watermelons to the great furnace to appease their new Gods.

The tradition of a mating ritual was abandoned in favor of the virginity lynching ritual; once a slave entered the age of 3 the unicorns assumed the responsibility of deflowering her or him. This day brought the 3rd birthday of a young colt by the name of Muddy MacSlave. Muddy was forcefully bound to the metallic pole located in the remains of the village square by thick ropes. A smaller article of rope was tenderly tied to his erect equine equipment, arousing the now blindfolded boy further. A vinyl gloved mare rubbed massage oil onto his sensitive appendage. Moans polluted the air as the mare stroked her victim's belly. Magic aided the mare greatly in tormenting the birthday boy; her horn sparked while she stimulated his prostate with a green aurora. The precum resulting from this massage was quickly consumed by the mare. After five minutes of this massaging his colon the mare halted suddenly. Peering deeply into her partner's eyes she whispered, "Prepare your every orifice, servant".

Her gloved hoof gently contacted his colt contraption. The tube of love she grasped pulsated in anticipation. Every brush drove the recently pubescent stallion into a fit of frustration. However, the sense of another finally providing him sexual relief rendered the torment worthwhile; his orgasm would and must occur for the ceremony to be completed. This relief appeared to be residing within the next ten minutes in the colt's temporarily blinded eyes; his mistress began vigorously stroking his phallus. Every move her hooves endured forced the colt into a shrieking fit. The continual torture that he encountered launched itself into 20 minutes. After another minute he released a moan and his seed.

Derpibooru (A neighboring land that contained many great artists) was bombarded daily by the cries of joy that the slaves emitted. A single night could not be endured without being awoken by the loving shrieks of the slaves. Even the more promiscuous readers (Nebbie I'm referring to you) could no longer withstand these endless moans. They met together in a concrete meeting room buried deep. Hours and days past until we finally concluded that the invasion of the area was necessary. We intended to capture the slaves, banish the unicorns to my dungeon, and allow Starly to urinate on their flag. Official agreement was announced after we raised our hooves straight into the air to form the Derpibooru salute. Tomorrow we would destroy NiggaPone village.

_The End?_


End file.
